


when it heals (it beats for you)

by tkreyesevandiaz



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Caring Evan "Buck" Buckley, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Eddie Diaz Needs a Hug (9-1-1 TV), Hurt Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Hurt/Comfort, I actually don't know what this is, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Lawsuit, Mild description of injuries, POV Evan Buckley, Protective Evan "Buck" Buckley, Sharing a Bed, Worried Evan "Buck" Buckley, ambiguous timeline, sensory prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tkreyesevandiaz/pseuds/tkreyesevandiaz
Summary: Of all the things Buck expects to hear as to why Eddie’s standing at his door at such an ungodly hour, those three words aren’t it.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 43
Kudos: 364





	when it heals (it beats for you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spinningincircles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinningincircles/gifts).



> This is Lauren's fault, and was also based off this a Twitter post. 
> 
> This is also combined with a sensory prompt requested by @deluweil on Tumblr. This is _also_ for Kat because we'd talked about this idea months ago (very vaguely). I have to triple count because I'm super busy these days so I hope y'all like it!
> 
> This is set vaguely after the grocery store argument, but before Buck gets back to work. It's ambiguous. Also, please keep in mind that is this a third-person limited omniscient POV...so the narrator can be very unreliable.
> 
> TW: vague mentions of the lawsuit, subdued mentions of blood, mild injury descriptions
> 
> **37\. the tender ache when you press against bruises**

“You’re not exhausting.”

Of all the things Buck expects to hear as to why Eddie’s standing at his door at such an ungodly hour, those three words aren’t it.

It takes all of his control to hold back a flinch at the memory of those words being flung at him, at the phantom embarrassment he can still feel heating his neck and ears. He vaguely remembers seeing strangers looking on at the people in uniform having heated discussions with each other right in the middle of the store, vaguely remembers the slightly-confused looks on Hen and Chim’s faces at Eddie’s out-of-character outburst. 

The words had burned then, and the memory of them burns now, too.

It’s then that Buck takes a closer look at his friend, takes in the bowed posture, the tight lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes, the smudges of darkness under bleak eyes. He lets out a soft gasp at the blooming red he can see on Eddie’s bruised knuckles. Buck’s willing to bet that there are more under his clothes, and the mere possibility of them kicks his brain into overdrive.

A familiar feeling of protectiveness surges up in him at the haggard sight of his partner, all these thoughts racing through his mind one after the other, each worse than the last. Vaguely, Buck knows Eddie’s more than capable of taking care of himself but that doesn’t stop the worry from tightening his throat because he can’t come up with a single logical explanation for this.

So instead of trying to say anything, Buck reaches out tentatively, brushing soft fingers over where Eddie’s hands are curled into fists. He gently opens his partner's grip up to slot their fingers together and lead him in.

And Eddie follows without hesitation — somehow, he’s always followed Buck, whether or not he has reservations about wherever it is they’re going. It’s nice to know that the lawsuit hasn’t changed that at least, no matter how much it hurts that Eddie’s clearly struggling with something, and Buck hasn't been there. He wasn’t there when it mattered to Eddie and Christopher, both of whom had been dealing with so much in such a short amount of time.

It’s a guilt he can’t let go of.

“Sit,” he says softly, guiding his friend into one of the dining table chairs before rounding the counter to grab a water bottle from the fridge and the first aid kit from the cabinet.

“You’re not exhausting, Buck. I need–” Eddie repeats as Buck steps in front of him before cutting himself off, pleading eyes dropping somewhere away from him. He sucks in a harsh breath in lieu of whatever he was about to say, before looking over at the large windows scaling the loft.

But Buck’s watching _him_. 

He can see the struggle pan out across Eddie’s face, can see the words twist in his mind as he tries to articulate whatever it was that had him at Buck’s loft at two in the morning. But as selfish as it sounds, Buck doesn’t want to hear him reference that particular phrase right now, because at this point, he's repeated the words to himself enough times that if he looks closely, he can see them embedded in his walls.

But right now, he just wants his mind to stop spinning with all the hypotheticals that dragged Eddie back to him looking like he’d been jumped. He just wants to take care of him.

“You need to be patched up. And that’s what we’re going to do.” Buck flicks the cap off the water bottle and passes it to him, opening the first aid kit to pull out gauze, bandages, disinfectant, and after a closer look at the visible patches of red and purple, the arnica gel. “Take the hoodie off.”

Eddie doesn’t move, only fidgeting with the sleeve cuffs as he stares up at him with pleading eyes. 

So Buck tries again, keeping his voice as gentle as he can manage. “I can’t help if you won’t show me where it hurts.”

It’s only after the words leave his mouth that Buck wants to backpedal, knowing that with those words, neither of them are talking about these physical injuries. There’s too much history that hangs between them, and as off-kilter as their relationship is right now, this reluctance to let each other know they were hurting has always been part of it. All the past few months have shown them is that those things need to change if they want this to go anywhere significant.

“I know,” Eddie whispers, one hand moving to his zipper. He’s not wearing anything underneath, and Buck watches as each inch reveals another splotch, another smattering of broken blood vessels, another stain of dried blood. The sight tightens the constriction in his chest, but he somehow manages to keep his expression blank as Eddie peels the two sides of the garment off his shoulders, slumping in on himself further as his skin is exposed to the cold draft of the room.

Grabbing a washcloth and wetting it with cool water, Buck starts on where he can see the dried blood and dirt, trying to squash the questions rising with each swipe of the towel. Some of the grime clears to reveal tan skin, while other patches reveal scrapes that had to have been inflicted by a person.

“Who did this to you?” Buck asks quietly, keeping his tone even despite the rising anger at the thought of someone hurting his best friend like that. He flicks his eyes up towards Eddie’s face, finding him looking determinedly away, head turned to the side.

That’s when his patience begins to falter. 

Slowly tucking two fingers under his jaw, Buck turns Eddie’s face to look him in the eye, searching his expression for all the clues he can get as he repeats the question. “Who did this to you?”

This time, a hint of desperation creeps into his voice, but it makes Eddie’s brow furrow as he looks back at him with wide eyes. He still doesn’t say anything, the silence stretching thin between them.

Yet another look Buck’s never seen on him, but this time, he can read the embarrassment, the plea, the anger and the hurt, and as much as he wants to wipe that look from his best friend’s eyes forever, it suddenly hits him that Eddie _did this to himself_. 

His hand falls away from Eddie’s face as he takes a step back, heart plummeting even further.

In all the things he’d been imagining, that hadn’t even been a possibility. No part of him would’ve imagined Eddie Diaz willingly putting himself in harm’s way like this — not with a kid counting on him coming home every night, safe and sound.

He doesn’t even know if he has the right to ask questions about it, if he has the right to fling Christopher at Eddie for the decision he’s made the way Eddie had to him. But he’s already resolved himself to not pushing him to answer anything yet, so he sticks to that and keeps his mouth shut.

Grabbing the disinfectant, Buck pours some on a cotton ball, gently maneuvering Eddie’s elbow upwards to dab on the cotton along the scrapes. 

He can’t stop his jaw from clicking as his mind races, each drop of blood wiped from Eddie’s skin only fueling the fire. Outside of the occasional faint hiss, Eddie stays still and silent, gaze burning into the side of Buck’s head. 

Part of him wants to ask Eddie what he was thinking when he left the house only to come home looking like this. The other part of him wants to let apologies drop from his lips relentlessly until Eddie forgives him, and they’re back to being Buck-and-Eddie, and they can put all of this behind them.

It’s killed him these past few weeks, not being able to see past the haze of betrayal from Bobby’s words, the determination to get his job back and then the guilt from Mackey’s exploitation of confidential information. It’s hurt to just be pacing the whole apartment going stir-crazy at the uncertainty of his job, not being able to do _anything_ with anyone that matters. 

But now, seeing Eddie right here, Buck thinks that the thing that hurts the most, the thing that triggers his guilt the most, is knowing that somewhere, he has a part in this unconventional behaviour from his best friend. The choices both of them made are their own, but the fallout…

The fallout has clearly cost them too much.

The grocery store argument was proof of that. It was only after Buck came back home, dejected and lost in thought, that he realized that Eddie hadn’t been angry as much as he’d been hurt. He, of all people, knows how when someone's that hurt, all they want is for the other person to hurt just as much, laying down all the cards that they know will dig into them.

“Sit back,” he says, reaching over for the arnica gel. The shadows make Eddie’s skin look even more daunting under the dim light of the kitchen. There aren’t any split abrasions on his torso, only the smears of indigo and crimson along the normally-tan skin. 

Squeezing the gel onto his fingers, Buck begins to rub it in as slowly as possible, pressing lightly against each bruise. He’s familiar with the tender ache that comes with pressure on the broken blood vessels, and knows that it’ll help keep Eddie with him, here.

Still, he isn’t familiar with the blank expression on his friend’s face. He doesn’t know what to do under the scrutiny of his gaze, only barely resisting the need to look him in the eye as he does this strangely-intimate task.

It’s not often Eddie lets anyone take care of him. It had been one of the first observations Buck had made about him, and to have him sitting so still and obedient is disconcerting. As grateful as he _could_ be for the opportunity to prove himself worthy of Eddie’s trust again, Buck would much rather do it in a way that doesn’t start with his partner looking like a sea of pain. Seeing the blueprint on bruises on the expanse of Eddie’s skin, Buck has a hard time mustering any sort of gratitude, outside the fact that his partner came to _him_.

As he kneels down to massage the gel into the last bruise just on the side of his hip, Eddie catches his wrist, making Buck look up at him reluctantly.

His eyes are glassy.

The tears send Buck into a spiraling panic near immediately. “What is it? Did I hurt you?” Carefully prodding at the bruise he was just at, Buck tries to pull on his EMT training to gauge whether Eddie needs an actual doctor or not.

One light tug brings his attention back to his best friend, fingers still wrapped tight around his wrist, pressing into his pulse. He freezes at the look on Eddie's face.

Buck has always felt ten feet tall under the intensity of Eddie’s gaze, has always felt like he mattered under the other man’s undivided attention, and even now, it’s no different. It’s a rare bid for vulnerability that has Eddie slowly peeling the layers back for him, but now that he’s freely letting Buck in, he’s terrified of doing anything that could jeopardize that.

Slowly, Eddie leans down to rest his forehead against Buck’s, eyes slipping closed. Buck holds himself still, not wanting whatever peace Eddie had somehow found to break.

“Don’t leave me again, please,” he whispers softly. The words hit him square in the chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“I just wanted my job back...I just wanted to get back to you,” he says quietly, not wanting to hash this out right now, but unable to let Eddie believe that Buck had ever left him. "I'm sorry."

He doesn’t think he could ever leave the Diaz boys behind — not now, not ever. They’ve become more integral to him than anyone else in his life, and inherently, Buck knows that no matter what the future holds, he will never be able to let go of Eddie, will never be able to let go of Christopher. A very large part of his heart will always be in love with them, and now that he’s recognized that, he can recognize how different, how fulfilling this feeling is from any relationship he’s ever had, romantic or otherwise.

One day, he'll be able to say that to them.

Eddie leans back, rolling his lips into his mouth as he tilts his head up to the ceiling. Buck stays exactly where he is, gaze dropping to where his partner’s hand is still wrapped around his wrist — strong, capable fingers that have held him up in the worst of times.

But he can sense a desperate need for comfort in his best friend, and Buck doesn’t know what to do to fix it. He has next to no clue how to get those tears to spill over so Eddie feels lighter. 

So he just acts on instinct.

Lifting their joined hands to his mouth, Buck presses a light kiss to Eddie’s bruised knuckles, ghosting his lips along the skin as if it could take the pain away completely. When Eddie doesn’t pull away, looking at him with tears brimming along his lash line, Buck moves to the other hand, interlacing their fingers as he drops tiny kisses along the ridges and veins that line the back.

And Eddie breaks.

One gasped sob and Buck’s on his feet, arms wrapped tightly around Eddie’s bare torso as his friend cries. He can hardly feel Eddie’s shoulders shaking and another part of him breaks at the thought of how long it must’ve taken him to perfect the art of crying silently.

But there’s nothing more he can do right now, so he brings a hand up to cradle the back of Eddie’s head, brushing a thumb along the course hair as tears seep through his shirt. It’s not until he feels a drop on his own arm that Buck realizes he’s started crying at some point, too.

Time has no essence here — not when Eddie’s breathing is finally steadying, not when Buck has his partner back in his arms, and not when the city spins silent dreams around them.

“You okay?” he asks finally, cupping the side of Eddie’s neck where his face is pressed into Buck’s stomach. He resists the urge to duck down and look him in the eye, giving Eddie the choice to do it himself — he doesn’t want to do anything to risk him closing off.

It takes a few more minutes, but eventually, Eddie pulls away, staring down at his hands. Buck reluctantly drops his hands, slowly kneeling down in front of him again. 

“Look, Eddie...I’m not going to ask you anything right now. I don’t even know if I _can_ ask you to make any promises for anything...but all I ask is that you don’t do whatever you were doing tonight anymore.” 

“I won’t,” he replies. The words are genuine and Eddie's a man of his word, and that much is enough for Buck. With a reassuring squeeze to his friend's knee, he gets to his feet again and pulls Eddie up.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He’s about to make his way upstairs when Eddie grasps his shoulder, turning him back around. “Buck, I came here to tell you that you’re not exhausting, not to put you out.”

“You, Eddie Diaz, could never put me out, and if you think I’m letting you leave after you showed up at my door looking like _that_ , you’ve got another thing coming,” he manages. “And I get it, Eddie. You were hurt, and I can’t hold that against you.”

“Doesn’t give me the right to throw those things at you. I was wrong when I told you to suck it up, when I threw Christopher at you, and when I told you that you were exhausting, because you’re _not_. You’ve never been and I'm sorry I said that.”

This is not a conversation he wants to be having in the dead of the night. He'd already tried to initiate this conversation once, when he'd gone to the grocery store, and that had ended in disaster. He already knows that morning could bring another tune no matter how genuine Eddie’s words may be, and he says as much. “Eddie...I don’t even know what to say to that right now, but this isn’t a conversation we should be having like this. If we’re going to talk about it, we’re going to talk about it in the morning.”

Eddie stares at him for a minute, before nodding once. Buck tries not to let his relief show as he leads Eddie upstairs, tossing him a pair of clean clothes.

“Where are you going?” he bursts out as Buck turns to go back downstairs.

“Uh...to the couch?”

“Stay, please. Don’t-don’t go.” Buck watches Eddie’s expression, watches the hope flitter across his handsome face, achingly familiar and without the crease of anger Buck had last seen him with.

“Eddie...are you sure?” he asks quietly, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. It feels like an invitation for something they can’t come back from, and right now, they’re not in a place where they can finally give in to whatever’s been thrumming between them from day one. 

“Yes...please?”

Buck’s resolve breaks, and he slides in beside Eddie, turning onto his side to face him. They study each other across the five inches of space between them, gazes roaming every line of expression embedded into each other's skin. Buck's not quite sure what either of them are looking for, but it's comforting to have his partner so close.

Eddie’s brow relaxes as he sinks into the pillows, eyes drooping with sleep. Buck spots one bruise on the side of Eddie’s temple that he’d somehow missed. Tentatively reaching out, he runs a thumb in circles around it, heart hurting so much for whatever his partner had gotten himself into.

“Don’t do it again, Eddie...please,” he whispers quietly, unsure if Eddie’s still awake or not. He gets his answer when hazel eyes blink open at him, bleary and mildly focused.

This time, it’s Eddie’s turn to reach out as he places one hand on Buck’s arm, scooting an inch closer. “Can I…”

Buck pulls him the rest of the way in, tucking the two of them together like puzzle pieces. Another lump of gratitude swells in his throat for having Eddie here like this, an unforeseeable outcome to a series of events that had spun out of his control one by one.

Pressing a light kiss to Eddie’s cheek, Buck exhales and closes his eyes, letting Eddie’s body warmth and steady breathing ease him into sleep.

His heart still breaks for them, but he knows that, come morning, everything will be alright again.

This time, he has faith.

* * *

**_you can break my heart in two_ **  
**_but when it heals, it beats for you_ **  
**_i know it's forward, but it's true_ **  
**_won't lie, i'd go back to you_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Title and end snippet are from _Back to You_ by Selena Gomez! My cousin chose it <3
> 
> Kudos and Comments make my day, so thank you to everyone who leaves them! I love hearing what you guys think, and anyone who takes time out of their day to comment has my heart and soul ♥
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [zeethebooknerd](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/zeethebooknerd) or on Twitter at [tkreyesevandiaz](https://twitter.com/tkreyesevandiaz).


End file.
